Ripper Street: To Face the Demon
by Irish Story Teller
Summary: Can Edmund Reid face his demons before they tear him apart? Told from Emily Reid's point of view.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer:** I do not own any of the _Ripper Street_ characters. They are copyright their respective owners. All non-_Ripper Street_ characters are mine and made by me. I make no money off this fan fiction, it is written for entertainment purposes only.

To Face the Demon

I had never known Edmund to shy away from physical things, but the emotions he felt tormented him at all waking hours and haunted him in his sleep.

What the Yankees called—his poker face—fooled all those but knew him intimately.

Edmund arrived home early, just minutes before I returned from church. He was still clad in his oversized coat and bowler hat. Privately Edmund griped to me that he did not like the style of bowler hats but it was expected of him to wear them so he did.

Glancing down I could see he held today's mail in his large hands.

"Anything exciting in the mail today?" I questioned in hopes of striking up a conversation.

In response Edmund pursed his lips and shook his head. He was about to speak when he pulled out one letter and studied it. His hands began to tremble causing me to hurry towards him, fearful of what could've upset him.

"What is it?" I asked.

Pursing his lips again Edmund hurriedly shoved the letter into his coat pocket.

"It's nothing," he lied.

Privately I suspected it was a letter regarding our daughter.

Possibly in hopes of distracting me he took off his coat and turned away from me.

I knew to pick my battles but he could not live in his denial any longer. Even a blind man could see it was torturing his very being. Hitching up my skirts so I could keep pace with my husband I followed him. Along the way he pulled off his coat and jacket. He kept them clamped firmly in his hands as he quickened his pace to try to lose me on the way to his bedroom.

Edmund was half way done removing his shirt by the time I arrived. I didn't need to hear him to know that he had heaved a sigh. His shoulders slumped as once again he spoke, "Are you going to follow me everywhere now?"

"Edmund, you need to talk to me," I said as I crept forward as if Edmund were a caged animal.

"Emily..."

Reaching out I felt the muscles in Edmund's arm flex. The same arms attached to my then new husband as he joked about the various ways he could carry me over the threshold of our new home. He had started out with the traditional way only to joke, "That didn't feel right!" followed by him making a basic attempt at carrying me over his shoulder.

The second time the two of us started laughing and by the end of his jokes our faces were red from a combination of laughter and the tears that rolled down our cheeks.

We had received many disapproving looks that day but we did not care. We were young, happy, and so in love.

I wanted to see my husband smile again.

"Emily," Edmund repeated to bring me back to the present.

"Please—" I was cut off when my eyes spotted a dark red stain on his shirt. "What happened to you?!"

"It's only a flesh wound," Edmund replied and pulled back his shirt to reveal an ugly looking cut that darted across the left upper side of his chest.

"What happened?"

"There was a mad man that attacked Drake and I. He kept raving about some dentist trying to harm him! He fought us like the devil but we were able to subdue him. It hardly hurts, really."

"Has it been cleaned? What about iodine—"

"No!" Edmund shrieked and his blue eyes grew wide. "Jackson has _already_ given the me iodine and I'm _not_ going through that again! Having an arm sawed off can't sting as much as that devil's fluid!"

Reaching up I was careful to avoid the cut flesh. My fingertips touched the discolored and puckered skin on his neck and shoulder. I could feel the warmth of his damaged skin that gradually warmed my cool hands. Edmund would never tell me how he was injured but I remember and the sight of his raw skin well...

Edmund's hand reached up to hold mine, "It doesn't hurt anymore."

"That wasn't what I was thinking."

"What then?"

"Don't shut me out, Edmund."


	2. Chapter 2

That night I was awoken by the sound of quiet sobs. I knew the sound well but every time I would check on my husband he would pretend to be asleep until I left.

Climbing out of bed I felt the cold hardwood floors beneath my feet. Who ever could invent indoor heating that would heat an entire home or keep hardwood floors from freezing a victim's feet off would make a fortune.

Reaching out I took the shawl Edmund had given me as a first anniversary present and wrapped it around me to ward off the chill.

I knew the way to Edmund's bedroom by touch and steps alone. I had visited it so often I no longer needed a candle or artificial light to guide me.

Pushing open the door I could hear the faint sound of Edmund's final sob. The moment I stepped foot inside he was silent.

He wasn't going to get away from me this easily.

Though he pretended to be asleep I walked to his bed. He ignored me as I first sat down then laid down behind him. Using my free arm I wrapped it around his chest, being careful to avoid the wound.

"Don't shut me out," I whispered to him.

My only response was his hand moving to tightly grasp mine.

The next few days were like the others. A routine that could not be escaped.

Edmund went to his work as a detective and I went to church to help and pray for my lost husband and daughter.

On the way home I found Mister Drake, Edmund's right hand man.

"Mister Drake!" I called out to him.

The tall sandy haired man turned to face me. Like Edmund looked as if he had gone through a battle.

"Goodness!" I exclaimed before I could stop myself.

Mister Drake managed a small smile through his bruised cheek and split lip.

"I'll live," he promised me as he removed his hat. "It's not as bad as it looks, I promise you. What can I do for you Missus Reid?"

I felt bad about going behind my husband's back and questioning his friend but I felt as if I had no choice.

"Has my husband spoken to you about anything upsetting him?" I asked.

"Other than his injury, no." Mister Drake gave me a smile to try to put me at ease. "If you heard loud cursing followed by the ringing of many church bells that was him."

"I know that story. What I meant was he's not talking to me about how he _feels_. He's hurting terribly but won't tell me what's wrong or how I could help him."

Mister Drake looked sympathetic, "Missus Reid, it's _girls and women_ who can talk about their feelings, not _men_. It's the British stiff upper lip for men, if we are upset we have to bite our lips to keep it from showing."

"If you men keep on biting your lips you will bite them off!"

Mister Drake gave a small nod. "I imagine we would, but if Mister Reid isn't willing to talk to you about such things he would not confess them to me. But, if he does talk I will let you know."

"Thank you Mister Drake."

Placing his hat on his head Mister Drake gave me a small smile, "Good day Missus Reid."

"Good day, Mister Drake."

Armed with somewhat of a new knowledge of the attitude of men I returned home. I could hear the rustle of my stiffly starched skirts as I entered my home.

Though Edmund was not home I thought about making him his favorite supper to try to cheer him up for tonight.

First though, first I needed to change. Mama would have a fit if she could see me wearing one of my nice dresses while making supper.

Hurrying up the stairs I mentally prepared what I was going to make and how much of it. Edmund could be a healthy eater and I was sure he was going to be hungry after a long day at work.

Changing into a pink blouse and faded brown skirt I went down the steps and into the kitchen. Grabbing the apron off the hook I set about my work.

Half way through supper preparations bouts of sadness began to stab at me. I missed the times when Edmund would stay in the kitchen doorway and I would try to entice him inside. He would almost always refuse until I bribed him with one of Mama's cookies. As a joke he would sometimes pretend to hurry out of the kitchen.

Then there was Abigail... She often tried to sneak her way into the kitchen to see what I was preparing and perhaps to steal some desert.

"_She got in again! We will have to find child sized locks for the kitchen!" Edmund joked as he pretended to chase his dark haired daughter down. His strong arms wrapped around her small body as she erupted into giggles. "Got you!"_

"_You're only encouraging her," Emily laughed._

"_What should we do with her now that I've caught her Emily? When my father caught me in mother's kitchen he always joked they could have me for dinner."_

"_We can't do that! She's too __small__!" Emily shot back._

"_I suppose you are right." Laughing Edmund quickly kissed his daughter's cheek. "I love you, Abigail."_

"_Love you too Papa," Abigail replied._

"_A thousand pardons, dear Emily, for allowing this little girl for entering __your__ territory."_

For how long I was distracted thinking about the past I do not know. I was brought back to the present by the smell of something burning.

Uh-oh.

Supper was burning!

"Emily?" Edmund's quiet voice said.

Grabbing the potholders I hurriedly pulled supper from the oven.

"I got distracted," I confessed as we looked at the very crispy edges of what was to be supper.

"It doesn't look bad," Edmund said.

I sighed as tears formed in my eyes, "I wanted it to be a surprise!"

"It is!" Edmund pulled me towards him, "Emily, let's eat and we can talk after supper."

Supper for us was painfully silent. Normally we'd chat about how our days went but tonight we both knew what had to be discussed.

"Edmund," I said to break the silence.

"Yes?"

"What happened that day? The day Abigail died and you were so badly hurt?"

Edmund shook his head, "It's nothing. I've forgotten what happened."

"I remember that day. I remember how badly hurt you were, and how you kept your head in my lap as you cried."

He looked away from me, "I don't want to discuss that."

"Don't shut me out, Edmund."


	3. Chapter 3

"Missus Reid! Missus Reid!" A familiar male voice called out.

When I looked I saw Mister Drake running towards me, hat in hand. Following his footsteps was the Yankee Homer Jackson.

"Mister Drake, Mister Jackson," I said to them. "Can I help you?"

Mister Jackson spoke first, "Something's happened!"

"What happened?" I asked, fearing something terrible had happened to Edmund.

Mister Drake held up his hand, "The higher ups sent your husband home early. We were following a case—and I don't mean to frighten you—but the criminal we were chasing tried to trap us inside an abandoned house." He sighed, "He tried to set it on fire but we were able to escape through an open window. Something must have set Mister Reid off as I've never known him to be near hysterics."

"He kept babbling about some...Harbor fellow? Is that name familiar to you?" Mister Jackson interrupted.

I shook my head; "Edmund doesn't discuss his cases with me."

"This Harbor must've done something terrible to him."

I could feel the blood drain from my face, "Is Edmund home?"

Mister Drake quickly nodded, "Come, we'll escort you home!"

Along the way the two of them did their best to give me the best cleaned up version of events that they could.

This Harbor fellow was suspected of several cases of arson as well as the deaths of at least four families. Mister Drake said something about Harbor carrying a weapon with him when they found him.

Mister Drake opened the door for me to enter and followed a few steps behind me.

"If you need anything you'll tell us, right?" Mister Jackson asked.

I nodded, "Yes, of course. Thank you."

With a tip of their hats the two men departed leaving me to find my husband.

To my surprise he was in the least expected of places. I found him lying on his side, in the near fetal position, on Abigail's small bed.

After her death we had given many of her belongings to charity but we kept her bed and her favorite doll. The wallpaper Edmund put up when Abigail was born was yellowing and fading.

We had originally thought we were expecting a boy so Edmund happily applied _pink_ wallpaper all around the room. It was a task that annoyed him to no end and took him forever and a day to apply. At the end he was sweaty, dirty, but proud.

When our child came out a girl Edmund insisted he was _not_ going to tear down the pink wallpaper and reapply _blue_ wallpaper. Our daughter would just have to get used to having _pink_ wallpaper.

"Edmund..." I said softly.

"I thought I had gotten _past_ it," Edmund said so quietly I had to strain to hear him. "I thought I had _accepted_ it."

Creeping into the room I moved towards my husband and sat on the corner of the bed his large body was not occupying.

"I tried Emily, I truly tried to save her..." A sob broke from his throat.

Leaning towards him I could see him clutching Abigail's favorite doll to his chest. The cloth doll with the china head he had struggled so hard to make her. I had taught Edmund the basics of sewing and despite the many pinpricks his fingers endured he was able to make a small doll that she loved.

"Edmund, tell me what happened," I whispered.

Edmund's trembling hand reached out to set the doll onto the floor. He gradually began to sit up until he collapsed against me. His body shook with the unhappy cries that he released as his tears stained my skirt.

I began to stroke his dark hair as he wept and talked into my lap and my mind flashed back to that dark day...

_Lying on his side Edmund gritted his teeth against the shock of pain that ripped through his body. The bright light that shone down on him did him no favors to escape the pain._

"_I'm sorry inspector, but I have to..." the doctor said._

_Running past the nurse Emily forced her way into the small room where Edmund was being treated._

"_I'm sorry, I tried to stop—"_

"_It's alright nurse," the doctor said. "You may leave us."_

_Emily gasped at the sight of the hideous shade of red that covered parts of Edmund's neck, shoulder, and back._

"_What happened?" Emily demanded._

"_He's been badly burned. Provided the burns do not become infected your husband should recover," the doctor explained._

"_I can hear you!" Edmund hissed through gritted teeth._

"_What can I do?" Emily asked to try to distract the argument she feared was about to brew._

"_You can stay with him," the doctor said._

_Finding the nearest spot near her husband._

_At first Edmund buried his face in the folds of Emily's skirt to keep her from seeing the agony he was in._

_The doctor tore away another strip of damaged flesh making Edmund cry out._

_Quickly mumbling an apology the doctor went back to work._

_Emily felt herself moving closer to her husband and letting him rest his head in her lap. She gently stroked his hair as he held onto the folds of her skirt so tightly his knuckles turned white. Tears of pain escaped his eyes and stained the fabric of her skirt..._

"If I h-had known..." Edmund sobbed.

"Had known what?" I gently pressed.

"If I ha-ad known Harbor was there—"

"Today?"

"No, when Abigail was killed! He stalked our family, knowing where we would be and he waited until we were vulnerable to strike. _He's_ the one who killed our daughter to hurt _me_! If I hadn't agreed to let Abigail stay with the Smith's—"

I closed my eyes as once and for all the terrible secret had been revealed.

"_Edmund, something about it doesn't feel right!" Emily protested._

"_Let the girl have some fun, Emily!" Edmund retorted. "What is __one night__ with the Smith family going to hurt? You know how Abigail has wanted to visit them."_

"_Some other night then! I have a terrible feeling about tonight and if Abigail goes there we may not see her again!"_

"_Nothing is going to happen to her! You need to stop being so frightened of the Axe Killer and The Ripper! We're right on the heels of catching them!"_

"I know you didn't want Abigail to go but—Oh God! I'm so sorry Emily!"

My heart wrenched from both knowing the terrible secret and seeing how much Edmund blamed himself for her death. His personal hell was far worse than anything I, or anyone else, could put him through.

"It's all my fault!" Edmund cried.

"Edmund—"

"For-forgive me Emily!"

I struggled to gently pull Edmund into a sitting position. Cupping his tear stained face in my hands I looked into his blue eyes.

"It's not your fault," I told him. "You didn't know."

Edmund blinked once, twice, as if he had expected me to lash out physically at him. I felt his hand reach up and take mine. He lowered it until it came to the burned skin on his neck and chest.

"What happened that night?" I asked him.

"After Harbor killed the Smiths and Abigail he set the house on fire. I didn't know they were dead and I ran into the house trying to find them. I don't remember anything between running into that house and being at the hospital. I must have blocked it out."

I slowly managed to nod as the tears also filled my eyes.

I could have hated my husband, cursed him for what had happened and what he had done and yet I couldn't.

I needed to know more of what happened.

"Why did he kill them?" I asked.

"To hurt me in the worst way. Years ago, before Abigail was born, I had captured him and his brother, Gerald, for robbery and murder. Gerald was hung but Harbor somehow escaped from prison. On the gallows Gerald vowed Harbor would have revenge and that he, personally, would find a way to drag me to hell with him. They both succeeded."

"You can take yourself out of that hell Edmund."

"How?"

"Talk to the pastor, talk to me, don't shut yourself away from the world."

Tears trickled down Edmund's cheeks, "I'm sorry Emily."

"It's not your fault Edmund. The blame lies solely at the hands of those two horrible men. This has torn us apart for long enough but no more."


	4. Chapter 4

After Harbor had been captured and hung for his crimes Edmund began to sleep more soundly. Gradually the sobs that would wake me during the night began to subside until, one day, I realized we had both slept through the night.

"Are you certain you want to do this?" I asked my husband.

Donning his large coat Edmund nodded, "I am. It has been far too long."

Grabbing his bowler hat he took my hand and pulled me out of our home.

It was chilly outside, far colder than I imagined it would be. England's winters were funny that way.

As if he were afraid of losing me Edmund held onto my arm the entire time on our walk to the cemetery. He walked like a man on a mission; as if he knew the location of each grave by heart until we came to one small gray headstone with a long slab over the grave.

"I've come to this place many times before, so often I know what religion and class is buried where...but...but I've always avoided this one grave," Edmund narrated and clutched my hand in his.

I looked at the grave with my dark eyes.

_Abigail Martha Reid, beloved daughter of Edmund and Emily Reid._

"She was only eight," Edmund said softly. He had a far away look in his eyes as if he could see through the stone and the earth and to our daughter's body. "I wanted this slab over the grave to keep grave robbers away. Abigail had already gone through enough torture."

"You need to forgive yourself," I said.

He looked to me with tears in his eyes, "Do you think Abigail has? Forgiven me?"

With a small smile I nodded and leaned my body against him. "I know she has. Abigail is in a better place."

"I would rather have her alive and well with us."

"I would too. It is death that makes us celebrate life and the time we have had."

Releasing my hand Edmund crouched down to kneel next to Abigail's grave. "I'm not one to believe in spiritualism but do you think there's a _possibility_ that Abigail is with us as a ghost and is aware of us?"

"Anything is possible with the Lord."

Edmund's head bobbed. Leaning in he quickly kissed the grave and spoke the words, "Your mother and I both love and miss you every much Abigail. I promise we'll visit you more often from now on." Looking to me he said, "I can't live in denial any longer. I can no longer bury myself in my work to try to escape it."

"We can move forward together," I said.

Climbing back to his feet Edmund grabbed my hands in his, "Yes, _together_. Let's go home, I'll carry you over the threshold again. It'll be a new start of our lives _together_."

Edmund kept his arm wrapped tightly around me as we walked.

For the first time today I did not feel cold.

~End~


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